


Dinner Date With Da Besties

by haredevil



Series: Friday Night Funkin' Nonsense [2]
Category: Friday Night Funkin' (Video Game), Pico's School (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism (Implied), Discord - Freeform, Gen, Halo 3 (mentioned), It'S jOkE, Lethal Firearms, Skid appeared briefly, Some Intentional Typos, Some parts are in dialogue format, Strong Language, Violence, other stuff, sorry if i forget to tag anything my memory is godawful, that's finally quite relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haredevil/pseuds/haredevil
Summary: BF is invited over by his girlfriend's parents' for dinner. About as many things go wrong as reasonably possible. Lord help him.Another kinda-joke fic.
Series: Friday Night Funkin' Nonsense [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157021
Comments: 41
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> trying my hand at something longer and more coherent here... i'm aware pico is canonically BF's ex, but i started writing for this stuff before that was canon, so their dynamic is a little different here. hope that's okay, love you (:

_Ee oo / Ee oo / Ee oo / Ee oo  
Pullin’ out the coupe at the lot  
Told ‘em fuck 12 fuck SWAT_

BF squinted his crusty eyes open. The room was dark, save for the stark light coming from his buzzing phone.

_Bustin’ all the bells out the box  
I just hit a lick with the box  
Had to put the stick in the box, mmh_

He spent a brief moment vibing to his ringtone as his eyes struggled to adjust to the godawful lighting. The phone itself continued to buzz across his mattress with determination, and he barely caught it before it tried to shatter its screen against the floor. 

_Pour up the whole damn seal  
I’mma get la-azy  
I got the mojo deals  
We been trappin’ like the 80s_

Finally, his vision deglazed itself enough to read the caller. It was his girl. He never answered the phone faster. Roddy Ricch would just have to wait.

“Hey sweetie, how are you?” That sweet and precious voice drifted through his phone into his ear like a seductive train, “I just saw another ad for Rick and Morty. That blue-haired old guy made me think of you.” The romance was overwhelming. _Be still my beating meat,_ he thought to himself. “You there, honey?” GF asked hesitantly.

“Skweebo.” The rugged texture to his voice may have been empowering if it weren't a bitter, stinging reminder of how thirsty he was right then.

“Hello hun!” GF delighted, “Actually, I did have another reason for calling. It’s… hmm…” BF glanced with concern through his dingy bedroom to his computer, which he never fucking remembered to turn off. He was privately concerned that GF might have found his FurAffinity. Not a can of worms he was prepared to open after a power nap.

“My parents,” _Oh Shit,_ “They want to have you over.”

“Baap?”

“Yeah, for dinner.” _Piss,_ “That okay? I think we’ve really been breaking ground with them since that incident at the mall.”

Fuck yeah. But also fuck no especially.

BF nodded into his phone with reluctance, before remembering his GF couldn’t see him.

“Boip.”

“Great! I’ll see you here today, at seven, okay babe? Kisses!”

Click.

_Fuck._

He ruminated on the hell he was about to endure for his girl. Worth it, for sure, but man. Dinner with her parents? Not what he had in mind for today.

He froze. Wait. SEVEN? It was already late as hell! He scrambled out of bed and put on some pants. Then he realised once he saw the hole in them haphazardly patched over with a Sonic decal — by god, he needed help with this.

He grabbed his phone and opened Discord.

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** yo pico

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** yo

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** yo

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** yo pico

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** yo

**PhillyCheese:** What now dude

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** wats up <3

**PhillyCheese:** Nm. Chilling with my bestie atm. Whats up?

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** wat do u wear when you’re having diner withg rich famous sexy demon parents ?

**PhillyCheese:** Wait real shit

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** i dont have any real shit to wear

Pico was silent for a very agonising moment. BF fiddled with the Sonic patch while he made his way out of his room to the kitchen. As soon as he opened the door, he was assaulted by a dazzling brightness. He brought up his arms in a sorry effort to protect his eyes, and while doing so, finally checked the fucking time on his phone.

2 PM. Blackout blinds are crazy shit. 

Now blissfully aware of the amount of time he had to waste, BF adopted a bumbling saunter on his way to the kitchen. Once there, he checked his Discord again briefly while pouring himself a glass of water.

**PhillyCheese:** Real funny asshole

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** <3

Brief pause. BF took a sweet little sip of his water.

**PhillyCheese:** I dunno a suit? You got a suit?

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** <3 no

**PhillyCheese:** <3 I hope you realise how fucked you are

BF cringed to himself. The Sonic patch he’d been fiddling with fell off about half way, the fucked up underside revealing itself to him. He frowned slightly into its sardonic, malignant abstraction of the popular video game protagonist. It mocked him with callous chagrin.

**PhillyCheese:** Darnell says smart-casual

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** like shit a teacher does wear?

**PhillyCheese:** Hang on

**PhillyCheese:** Yea

**PhillyCheese:** Idk man i would wear a suit

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** aint dat for funerals n shit

**PhillyCheese:** For you i imagine it will be

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** bro?!

BF put his phone away with rancour. _Fuck that guy._ He romped over to the fridge like a toddler in his righty whities looking for a delicious afternoon snack (breakfast). He opened the fridge. The exquisite scent of recently expired milk started punching him in the face ferociously.

Wait. Should he be bringing something for dinner? _Isn’t that what people do?_ He grabbed the pungent milk carton and made his way to the bathroom. _Damnit, what do demons and ex-rock stars eat? … Caviar?_ He didn’t even know what caviar was. He began to pour the expired milk into the toilet. _Human intestines or something? Fuck._ He couldn’t get that anyways. He flushed the toilet. Making his way back to the kitchen, BF checked Discord on the way and threw the empty milk carton on the bench to deal with later. He had an unread message from Skid. He resolved to subject himself to that later.

**PhillyCheese:** When is this anyway

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** 2nite @ 7

**PhillyCheese:** Bro we were supposed to hang out tonight

_Ah, shit._

**PhillyCheese:** Halo night remember? You said we could play custom maps this time

**PhillyCheese:** Remember that old map that was straight up just mcdonalds 

**PhillyCheese:** A fucked up little mcdonalds 

**PhillyCheese:** I downloaded it

_Huh..._

BF reflected briefly on the cooking utensils stowed away in the cupboard. They collectively shed a single, pleading tear in their neglect. He looked away.

_Nah, can’t cook them anything._

He stared at Pico’s messages for a moment.

_Do demons like McDonalds?_

**PhillyCheese:** Also your name on here sucks can you change it

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** no <3

**PhillyCheese:** What is wrong with you

BF bashed himself internally for fucking up his plans with his boy. His virtual McDonalds dinner date with the bro (singular). He felt like a monster.

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** sry man thijd is more important

**PISS BOI DELUXE:** its in da name of love

**PhillyCheese:** Whatever

Waves of passive aggression were emanating through his phone. He briefly considered inviting Pico to come along with him, but thought better. To anyone with a lick of sense, the reasoning would be obvious — bringing your boy to meet your girlfriend’s parents is a stupid ass decision when they already hate your ass and guts. To BF, however, the reasoning was rather different; he didn’t want Pico to upstage him with his fancy dinner suits he apparently had. If he knew Pico wouldn’t one-up him, he’d invite the guy. _Oh well._ Naturally, he didn’t consider that Pico already knew GF’s parents, and got along with them a hundred times better than him. He was too focussed on the mental image of Pico in a funny little suit. He scratched his ass absent-mindedly, then remembered he was supposed to be panicking.

~~~

4 PM, and BF was still agonising in his apartment. Raked-through garments coated the floor and parts of the furnishings, flung with wild abandon by a chimpanzee-adjacent man who couldn’t find anything to wear. There were also some empty McDonalds containers on the bed, a new addition to the room’s decor, adding to the “MUST WATCH!! White Boy’s Pre-20s Identity Crisis (GONE WRONG) (GONE SEXUAL) (GONE CATHOLIC)” vibe.

He rubbed his face with his hands. He still needed to figure out what gift to bring for dinner. Maybe they’d settle for his winning personality.

...

He pulled out his phone again.

 **PISS BOI DELUXE:** ok can i borro a suit tho

He immediately put his phone down in shame, afraid of an answer. He could already picture the disappointment on GF’s face. “Your drip is wack and I know you’re a furry,” she’d say, “My parents are going to send you to super hell now, okay? Also I’m leaving you for an anime boy, pussy.” It took a long time of zoning out and basking in self-pity before BF checked his phone again. With dismay, he found that Pico had not replied. This is what he gets for abandoning his boy on Halo night. _Mister Chief, I have done you wrong._

He even tried improving his Discord handle, from PISS BOI DELUXE to ASS BLAST USA, to appeal to Pico's sensibilities. This had absolutely no effect.

As the radio silence dragged on, to the point where another fruitless hour had passed, BF grew impatient. He threw on a clean shirt, jacket, and some shoes, and left his apartment. As he slammed the door, a signed portrait of Tony Hawk previously tacked to it fluttered to the ground in a melancholic quiet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BF forces Pico to help him with his familial conundrums. Darnell is also there, because he's cool like that.

For the entire trip, as he stared at his shoes, BF reminisced on the days of heelys, and began to desperately wish he owned a pair. It wasn’t his fault they were so damn expensive. Like, what. They just put a wheel on the bottom of it. $90 for an adult’s pair. What the hell? Do you know how many copies of Undertale you can buy with $90? They do have SpongeBob on them though. SpongeBob kicks ass.

Would GF’s parents be impressed if he swooced into their house wearing a pair of slick SpongeBob heelys?

Wait, remember those shoes where you could remove the sole and there was a little toy in there? That was cool as hell. They should bring those back. BF fondly regarded them as a chick magnet, as well as a BF magnet too, now that he thought about it. He decided that if he met someone wearing a pair of those, and they took off their shoe to show him a little toy car nestled in the sole, he would go down on them without question.

Oh. He was at Pico’s apartment complex. Actually, he was already at the door. He didn’t even remember getting in the shitty little piss-stained elevator, although he might have blocked that traumatic memory out like the previous hundred times he’d forgotten not to take it.

He knocked on the door.

What followed was a minute straight of bolts and locks being undone on the door, with quiet — yet aggressive — mumbling barely audible from the other side. BF put his hands in his pockets. At long last, the door inched open, revealing a single white eye. “Oh, hey!” Pico sounded as though a heap of tension had just been released, “I thought you were the landlord.”

BF just shrugged, “Be-bap skawoo deeb.”

“Cool,” Pico did not understand a single word of that. He smiled, and BF heard a clatter that sounded suspiciously like lethal arms being discarded. A final bolt and chain was undone on the door so it could fully open. “Come on in.”

BF was welcomed into the suspiciously warm and clammy air of Pico’s apartment. If BF had any visible nose to speak of, a weird assortment of unidentifiable and probably illegal scents would be crawling into it. The window was slightly ajar as usual -- not that it helped of course. It was deeply repellant to anyone who didn’t know the guy, but he was familiar with Pico’s state of being by now. Plus, he probably couldn’t smell worth shit — that’s what Pico speculated, at least. His actually-visible ears were filled with the equally familiar constant hum of a video-game console that came out in 2005 and had seen regular use and abuse for the past decade and a half. What he wasn’t so familiar with was the guy lounging on Pico’s couch, enraptured in whatever game was running on the XBOX 360. BF looked between the two of them and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets.

Before anything else, Pico began redoing all the locks and bolts on the door with the trained precision of someone with way too much paranoia and insomnia. Man was doing scat with his fingers on those things. It was honestly impressive to watch every time. “We’ve got a snack table going, so feel free to chow down on anything you like,” Pico explained casually during his speedrun. After he finished, Pico simply regarded BF casually and with a level of passive fondness for a moment, before snapping to attention, “Oh, you guys haven’t met have you?”

“Wait,” Darnell quickly interjected. BF followed Pico as he made his way over to the couch right in time to see an RPG launcher explode a horde of zombies. He leaned back in satisfaction and paused the game. “Okay, who’s this guy?”

“This? This is, uh,” Pico sniffed, not because he actually needed to, more so as an act of thinking -- or some sort of instinctive ‘How do I introduce this dumbass’ gesture. “This is Boyfriend.”

The man in question was pondering what to take from the snack table, which consisted of an assortment of Lay’s chips, several (likely empty) cans of root beer, some s’mores with pitiful amounts of chocolate, and an inordinate quantity of apples.

“You have a boyfriend?” Darnell asked, “I wasn’t made aware of this!”

“No, you obtuse fuck,” Pico half-joked, punching Darnell on the shoulder as he sat down next to him, “That’s his name.” BF awkwardly did his signature victory hand signal to the stranger, having grabbed an apple and initiated the gamer snacking.

“Oh, cool! That’s really weird.” Darnell extended a hand to BF for a shake. BF high-fived it in a moment of utter stupidity that was duly noted by the other two, “The name’s Darnell!”

“Bwee da skooda doo bee,” BF replied pleasantly. Who the hell was this guy? He recognised the name, sure.

Darnell paused, and looked at Pico quizzically, who gave him an apologetic look in response, “Oh, he’s just like that.” It wasn’t BF’s fault nobody here knew how to scat, and scat exclusively. The world would probably be a better place if people just made sounds at each other like wild animals. Overtime, Pico had become accustomed to BF’s nonsensical, bastardish and gleeful degree of idiocy, and BF saluted him for that. It was a long and bumpy uphill road that Darnell had just gotten off the shitty, gas-guzzling, empty greyhound bus at the bottom of. Pico and BF looked down to Darnell, as the poorly-adjusted outsider to their domestic chaos that he was, from their metaphorical throne of mutual imbecility. Meanwhile, Darnell was trying to figure out what each person in the room was professionally diagnosed with and what prescriptions they were taking/skipping.

“He just scats?” Darnell seemed entertained by the concept.

“He just scats,” Pico confirmed.

“I can vibe with that!” Darnell said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. Pico smiled. Just a nice, genuine smile. It was cool when he did that. Kind of contagious. He ate some more apple.

“Cool, cool, so anyways,” Pico turned his attention to BF, who was just kind of standing awkwardly in front of the couch, “What’s up? You need me to write your eulogy? I’m gonna bring up the FurAffinity account. I hope you know that.”

“Badeep skidoo bo dah wee dah!” Suddenly, BF remembered that he was mildly pissed off at Pico, and pulled Pico’s phone out of his pants pocket to show him the last message he sent.

“Ohhhh,” Pico replied, “But Darnell said smart-casual.” To his side, Darnell nodded sagely. 

The fuck does that even mean, though? BF just gave him an impatient look, which prompted Pico to go grab him a suit anyways.

“Wait, Ass Blast USA? Seriously?” Pico mumbled to himself on the way out.

During Pico’s brief absence, BF and Darnell were left extremely alone together. BF looked to Darnell, who had been looking at him but quickly looked away to the window. Darnell then glanced back to BF, who suddenly became very interested in the vague black-ish stain on the ceiling. The silence was palpable. You could hear an eyelash flutter. You could hear the tortured screams of a soul trapped in a dating simulator from that apartment. BF briefly contemplated the sweetness of nonexistence.

“Enjoying the snack table?” Darnell asked. BF looked down at his half-eaten apple, and figured he must be. “You know, without me here it would’ve just been apples. It's all the motherfucker has. Can you believe that?”

“Skidoo beh?” BF thought back to the multiple times he had seen Pico rush a crate of apples through the apartment on his previous visits. That was kind of fucked up if true.

“Uh, yeah,” Darnell replied.

A quiet dragged on as BF continued to eat his shiny red apple.

“Wait,” Darnell suddenly switched focus, “Were you that guy at the mall dropping bars on the purple people?”

BF nodded, giving Darnell a cocky grin.

“That was awesome! I thought I remembered that hair-hat combo,” Darnell grinned back, “Haha, yeah! Man, that place looked great when I lit it up afterwards. Good times.”

After a moment of silence, BF shuffled away from him slightly.

“Okay, I got it!” Pico came back in with something conveniently covered in a white sheet.

It was times like this that Pico and BF’s exact same child-like heights and weights were beneficial for more than a small gag. Frankly, with the way Pico brought up suit-wearing like it was obvious, BF expected the guy to have more than one — and also semi-hoped it wasn’t green, which it was. Fucking emerald green suit. When Pico brought it out, it almost exposed itself in a flourish, begging him to be miserable in it. Darnell snickered, albeit sympathetically.

“Before anyone says anything, I only wore this shit once, and it was not voluntary. I’m not divulging any more info than that.”

Pico kindly left BF in his bedroom so that he could change in private. The guy seemed to have some thing about mirrors, because the room was absolutely devoid of any reflective surfaces save for his laptop’s monitor -- too dark for BF to study himself in -- which felt like a kick in the already-broken teeth. At least he could take some consolation in staring at all the posters of thriller movies and slashers Pico had pasted on the walls. They were interspersed with printed cutouts of video game characters, of which BF recognised a few: Samus, Heavy Weapons Guy, Knuckles the Echidna, and uh… some little kid wearing a stripy shirt and a hat that looked a lot like his. Regardless of the little tyke, BF was sure Pico was a man of culture. Kid was probably from a kickass game. He also took some brief delight in throwing a couple spare socks up onto the wonky ceiling fan. It tilted towards him slightly as it spun in a lazy circle like an inebriated Tasmanian Devil. 

Damn, he even had one of those lamps with the flexible neck thing. Pico had it bent into an M-shape for no good reason. He wondered if GF would be more impressed by him if his room was as decked-out as Pico’s. This brought his train of thought inevitably circling back around to his smokin’ hot GF, and he rediscovered his resolve. This was in the interest of the love of his life, god damnit. He could wear a dinky-ass suit for a day.

Oh wait. He was supposed to be getting changed. He threw his apple core in a trash can already full of a suspicious amount of apple cores, and started doing what he was there for.

Self-soothed, dressed to the nines, and emotionally prepared, he inhaled sharply and opened the door.

Laughter ensued. It ensued for a painfully long time, until BF let out an enraged “Beep!” and the two managed to pipe down.

“Boyf,” Darnell asked through tears, “You know you’re only wearing like, half of the ensemble?” He suddenly desperately wanted to look at BF’s brain, a feeling Pico knew well.

BF flung his arms out with an exasperated expression. He was indeed only wearing half of the suit — the pants and the tie, coupled with his regular shirt. He thought that was the point of a smart-casual look. It was half-smart and half-casual, god damnit.

Pico couldn’t help but laugh again. The sequin-y fluorescence of the form-fitting trousers made him look like he was half-dipped in green glitter. His baggy white shirt draped over them gave him a popsicle kind of vibe. Combined with his red shoes and cap, he was deeply reminiscent of a gaudy Christmas decoration. Several well-dressed mercenaries across the state suddenly moved him to the top of their itineraries for some reason.

“Okay, maybe the suit idea isn’t so solid,” Pico concluded, having felt an emerging bloodlust since BF emerged from his bedroom.

BF visibly deflated, to the point of throwing himself down on the couch and scatting despondently into a coke-stained cushion, much like a majesty’s fool would jingle miserably across the floor before collapsing of salmonella or whatever old-timey bitches keeled over from.

“Hey, we could line that bad boy with bombs under the jacket, so if it ends up going poorly, he can light the place up,” Darnell suggested.

“Nah, I’m not sure that’d work on demons,” Pico replied thoughtfully, causing Darnell and BF to blink very hard and for very different reasons.

 _Demons?_ Darnell thought. He figured that the purple skin was just some Homestuck cosplay shit.

 _Light the place up?_ BF thought, _Like, exploded them?_

“... Have you tried it?” Darnell asked.

“Not personally.” What the shit? BF rolled his face away from the cushion only to be greeted by two crotches. He angled himself slightly better to see their faces looking down at him.

“Do you want to?” Darnell asked, glancing between the two of them hopefully.

“EE A BA DWAP BEE!!!!” BF exclaimed, causing the two to flinch backwards in alarm from the hazardous scatting.

Carefully, Pico considered the urgency of that reply, “I don’t think we should kill his girlfriend’s parents,” he reasoned. BF was shocked that this wasn’t obvious to them, a huge moment of development for anyone who might have been witnessing this. Unfortunately, he wasn’t smart enough to be equally shocked that he was apparently the most reasonable person in the room for once. “Or his girlfriend. Or him, for that matter.” My, how things change.

“Fair,” Darnell eased off, “Lemme know if you change your mind!” BF wanted to look at Darnell’s brain, a feeling Pico knew well.

“Can you get up?” Pico asked in a genuine, oddly innocent tone, “You’re gonna leave a weird depression on the sofa like that.” BF was already feeling a weird depression in himself. He sat up with an overt dejectedness, befitting of a man who now had about a dozen trained killers hunting him down, aware of it or not.

Pico sat to his left, while Darnell took a seat to his right. Somewhat hesitantly, Pico clapped a hand on BF’s shoulder to offer some attempt at emotional support, “Look, nobody would handle this situation well, I know I’d be shitting myself too. It’s whatever. And it’s only this one time, I’m sure you’ll get other opportunities to convince a pair of demons not to kill you. Maybe even like you, eventually. It worked with me, and I was specifically hired to destroy you with extreme prejudice. And I was looking forward to it, too.”

Was that supposed to help?

“Like, really looking forward to it. Not just for the money. It was a lot of money, though.”

Pico trailed off, realising this probably wasn’t very helpful. Whatever, he was waxing reminiscent. What a beautiful friendship they had. He briefly thought back to those wonderful times he and Darnell had fought to the death during high school, too. Sweet nostalgia.

“My point being, though, if you can get through to me, you can get through to them, I think.”

BF shrugged half-heartedly. He had a feeling tonight may be a funeral after all.

“Besides, considering the amount of times you cause people second-hand embarrassment regardless, I don’t think your girlfriend will mind. She uh, she loves you, and stuff,” Pico added.

That actually kind of helped. Fortunately for BF, his girl found his appalling lack of brain cells very endearing. If the night didn’t go as planned, so long as he didn’t become the main course or anything, he could rest assured that GF still loved him.

BF smiled at Pico and gave a grateful “Shweeb.”

“Shweeb yourself,” Pico abruptly returned to a level of insouciance BF was accustomed to getting.

During this conversation, Darnell had been idly flicking the control sticks on the XBOX controller. When BF and Pico acknowledged this, he paused awkwardly. “Go ahead,” Pico nodded to him. Darnell went back to committing video game violence for Pico’s entertainment. He ate another goddamn apple.

BF was feeling a little more comfortable in himself while he watched Darnell get pummelled by a dude with a long tongue. He pulled up Discord on his own phone, and decided to open the message from Skid.

It was a faceswap of Skid with his toilet, which he had placed two empty toilet roll tubes on.

BF closed Discord.

“Wait, how did you get into my phone earlier?” Pico abruptly turned to him, mouth full of apples. BF did his V-hand signal at him as an automatic response.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And So It Begin.

Before BF knew it, the time on his phone read 6 PM. He remembered once again that he couldn’t spend today bulldozing his few remaining brain cells as he had originally intended, and was ashamed of himself for getting lost in the gamer sauce on dinner date night. He voiced his concern to his boy Pico and his new second boy Darnell, who was kind of awesome.

Neither of them understood him even remotely, but fortunately had enough intelligence to figure out his grief through context.

“I’ve been thinking about your predicament,” Darnell said, pausing the game, “I kinda think you should just go full casual. Trying to be smart obviously isn’t going to work, so you might as well just bring yourself!” Darnell gestured vaguely to the poor excuse of an adult man that was BF. Said quote-en-quote ‘adult’ hummed thoughtfully. That was a fair point. GF didn’t like him for his tacky singular suit (THAT BELONGED TO PICO), she liked him for his pants that made his legs look mega thick and his torso mega long.

 _Wait, no,_ he despaired, and went to gather his own pants from Pico’s bed. He displayed the ruined patch and the exposed gaping hole in the thigh. The inverse stitching of Sonic’s face was unnerving as ever.

“Yikes,” was all Darnell could respond with. Nobody said it, but they all agreed — maybe it’s best to not be yourself when having dinner with your girlfriend's parents if 'yourself' entails having embarrassingly large and revealing holes in your garments.

Pico frowned, “I mean, you could just borrow some of mine. Again.” BF responded with a pleading expression and a small nod. A few minutes later, and BF emerged from Pico’s room once again in a new getup — closer to himself than before but still feeling weird, like a Diet Boyfriend. He found yet again that Pico’s pockets were more difficult to casually stuff his hands in. And BF, he had an innate talent of being able to stick his hand into a pocket of any size. Meeting his match was unsettling. His pinky finger got caught on the edge when he tried.

“Alright! That’s more like it!” Darnell provided some encouragement that made BF smile so big and wide despite it all.

Pico nodded in agreement, “Lookin’ good! Just, don’t stuff the pockets with moon sand this time, alright?” BF could make no promises. He was a man of simple pleasures. Pico questioned why he even asked.

BF then started getting his things together and preparing to leave, while Pico began to undo the barricade on his door. He didn’t get very far before he had an epiphany.

“Wait,” Pico turned to the other two, “Shouldn’t he bring something?”

 _Oh shit, yeah!_ BF was kinda proud of himself for having remembered that he thought of that earlier. Too bad he forgot until right now, when someone else reminded him.

“Oh, definitely! He still has time,” Darnell replied, considering his options, “A bouquet, maybe? For the missus?”

 _Where could I get that?_ He thought.

“Where could he get that?” Pico asked, “People don’t sell nice shit here. Not after three.”

“True,” Darnell replied. “I’d ask if you had any chocolates lying around, but… I mean…” Darnell glanced at the snack table. What pathetic amount of chocolate he could cobble together was hiding in those untouched s’mores.

Thinking hard, Pico went back to unlocking the door. The other two returned to their own activities, which for Darnell was tugging at the Sonic patch on BF’s spare pants, and for BF was kicking a coke can across the floor. Darnell had deduced that the patch was previously applied to the pants using PVA glue, considering there was no thread to be seen. BF looked back pensively on the disappointing truth that Shadow the Hedgehog was never going to be an echo fighter in Smash. Yes, everyone in the apartment was equally focussed and driven in a productive manner.

“WAIT!” Pico exclaimed, causing the other two to shit their pants, “I know!”

He blazed off across the room toward his bedroom again, and the other two were carried by his sense of urgency to follow him like cattle. He pushed the door open, wearily acknowledging the several pairs of socks chilling on the ceiling fan, and ran across the room. In the corner was a small pile of cardboard boxes. They were nestled politely between the wall and his wardrobe full of the same shirt and pants copy-pasted a hundred times over.

He shovelled through them while Darnell and BF got comfy sitting on his bed and watched. Several boxes got put aside, and BF found they were conveniently labelled in black sharpie. Cables, figures, miscellanies, a pathetic amount of Christmas decorations that still hadn’t been put in storage, a whole box of school supplies at least a decade old that he still had for some reason, and a package that was suspiciously unmarked and very noticeably hidden as soon as Pico recognised it.

Finally, he pulled out a shoebox. BF quietly pondered the possibility of there being a pair of heelys within.

“Okay, let’s go, let’s go!” Pico dragged the others back to the door, shoving the box into BF’s hands and ushering him out. BF turned and gave his friends one last grateful glance before facing his doom.

“Go get ‘em champ,” Pico encouraged, giving him a punch on the shoulder.

“You got this, bro!” Darnell said, raising his hand for a high five, “Gimme some for the road!” 

BF shook his hand. Darnell took it like a champ.

Waving back to them and holding the box close to his chest, BF made his way out of the apartment complex. Pico began the arduous task of re-locking the door, AGAIN, while considering if having guests over was worth it for his developing carpal tunnel.

BF checked his phone. It was just shy of quarter past six. He had time to make it there if he kept a good pace, he figured. Sure would be easier with a pair of heelys.

_Speaking of awesome as hell footwear…_

BF looked down at the shoe box as he walked, barely missing stepping in some puke on the sidewalk. He shook it slightly, noticing that it was quite heavy. Across the road, a gaggle of brown-haired genetic clones waddled in a tightly-packed cluster in the opposite direction to him. 

He didn’t even know what was in this bitch. It was kinda heavy though.

He opened the box.

_What the fuck?_

~~~

Meanwhile, Pico returned to his room with Darnell to re-organise the boxes he’d pulled out. He did like to maintain a level of decency in his apartment, and did so by making sure clutter was, in the least, highly concentrated in out-of-the-way locations. In the corner beside a wardrobe, for instance. He wasn’t as gross as some other people.

As Darnell passed him the boxes back, Pico cast a glance over all of his shit. Although most of his boxes were appropriately labelled, there were some he never felt the need to mark. Things that were obvious. Things like —

“Wait.”

Was that another shoebox?

He pulled it out and onto the bed, opening it to reveal several bottles of fine wine. They rolled slightly to the side, the glint of his M-shaped desk lamp reflecting off their necks making it almost seem like they were winking at him.

“Shit.”

“Huh?” Darnell said, marvelling at the aged beverages and wondering why the hell Pico even had them. Particularly why he kept them in a shoebox in his room. He made a mental note to ask for an explanation regarding that.

“I gave him the wrong box,” Pico said with a blank expression, masking the deep gut-wrenching horror he felt welling within him at the implications of this blunder. The amount of stuff he had to tell his therapist was really beginning to accumulate.

“Oh snap.”

~~~

BF stared at the deep crimson fishnet chemise lingerie with deep consideration.

It was resting comfortably on some rich purple satin cushioning, shockingly thick.

 _Cool,_ he guessed, _but who were they for?_ He didn’t really feel comfortable giving this to GF’s parents. Something about it rubbed him the wrong way, but he wasn’t sure what exactly. On the one hand, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that GF would love this shit. But wasn’t the point of this to give something to her parents? As he walked, BF idly scraped his shoe against the ground, realising he had just stepped in gum much like he did every time he went out into the city. He closed the box and held it to his side.

 _Aw, man._ So asking Pico for help had kind of been a bust. At least he had some fun with it.

As he made his way through progressively more affluent streets, he found himself pausing outside of the local Olive Garden. He peered through the window.

After a moment’s deliberation, he caught someone about to enter and gave them five bucks to bring him back a thing of breadsticks. He also found a pack of cigarettes on a table by the door, which he swiped.

 _Okay,_ he thought, starting a light jog thereafter, _This is a little better. But it doesn’t feel like enough._

Buying a pack of gum at a corner store he passed by on the way had his gifts feeling adequate for such short notice. He knew he’d love it if someone came to his house with this shit. Maybe not the cigarettes, but he could pass them on or use them to look cool in selfies or something. His lifetime of avid cartoon fanaticism dictated that a cigarette packet was also a perfect bed frame for a tiny mouse, and he knew for sure where to find some mice. Yeah, these were good, useful gifts. And he wouldn’t let the lingerie go to waste, since Pico seemed so confident in them.

At long last, BF made it to his girl’s house. In the darkness of February’s early evenings, it was even more intimidating than ever. He tried to stop clenching his butt cheeks like he had been for the last several hours, but found it impossible. They were taut with fear and anticipation, and the house was gleefully aware of it.

Wishing he wrote his will, BF made his way past the indecently long limousine and stepped up to the door, pressing the buzzer. It took a moment of praying to God for forgiveness, but the door finally opened.

“You made it!” GF exclaimed in relief, immediately stepping forward to kiss him. Her gentle caress instantly had BF at ease. It was always like that with her; many times in his past he had caused legal incidents simply due to being completely wrapped up in GF’s perfection. Like that time he caused a chain of incredibly violent car crashes by jaywalking in rush hour because GF was holding his hand so nicely. A sweet girl with a sense of humour. The best personality he had ever known somebody to have, and surely ever would. Plus her ass was so fat naturally. You have to respect it.

 _Oh shit,_ not the right time to let his brain go on tangents.

“Skwee babop doo bap bo?” BF asked.

“Oh, I’m doing great, honey,” she ushered him out of the cold, noticing the bouquet of breadsticks he held in his hand, “Aw, for us?” BF presented them to her in their crispy decadence. She took them and gave them a long look. “They’re perfect,” she said with a smile. “Nice pants by the way. Have you been to Pico’s?”

BF was grinning bashfully when he nodded, and GF giggled at him. The laugh overed quickly though, because a loud shout rattled the foundations of the building, seemingly from a room partway down the impossibly large hall spanning before him.

“Was that him, muffin?” Mom called out sweetly.

“Yes, mom! Just wait a second!” 

“What for? What are you doing out there?” Dad said in warning, “Boy, you better not be macking on my daughter.”

“No, dad! Please just wait!” GF already seemed exhausted. BF instinctively took her hand as they made their way to the dining room. “I made them agree to not hound you as soon as you got here. I almost had to tie dad to the chair.” GF reflected on the past two hours, during which her dad had been practically breathing down her neck interrogating her about the charted anomaly that was her boyfriend. Talk about over-protective.

The two parents had to immediately adjust their behaviour as soon as their daughter re-entered with their Special Guest. Mom released her death clutch on Dad’s belt, having been physically restraining him from leaving the room. If BF was more observant, he may have noticed several claw marks on the nearby walls and furniture. Dad straightened his pants while Mom straightened her hair. There were several knocked over antiquities and clawed through upholsteries behind them that seemed like they were about to be ignored for the rest of the night.

“Good evening,” Mom said.

“Eeby deeby,” BF replied.

There was a moment of silence at the painfully unfunny string of gibberish BF just spouted.

“That means good evening!” GF translated what had absolutely just been BF making sounds out of fear. Dad seemed unimpressed, making his way back to his seat.

GF was silently thankful to see that Mom had the basic decency to not eat dinner in Dad’s lap for once, instead taking a chair beside him. The table had been carefully set for a solid compromise between interests; Mom and Dad had one end of the square table, with BF at the opposite end. Perpendicular to them both, and conveniently close to Dad, was GF’s designated spot. It was perfectly set up for Dad to stare daggers into BF’s fragile ego, while Mom seemed to be sizing him up with curiosity, like a cat. A sexy cat.

BF quietly slid the shoe box under his seat, figuring he could save it for later.

“We still have a couple minutes before the starter,” Mom explained, lounging casually in her chair like she was posing for PlayBoy Magazine. She uncrossed her legs just to re-cross them again the other way, as though trying to discern which position made BF more visibly uncomfortable.

“Actually, that’s perfect, because look what my boyfr—“ Dad gave her a look, “... Our guest… brought!”

She placed the breadsticks in a bowl in the middle of the table, sharing a brief smile with BF. Dad squinted at the bowl in disdain and mild disgust.

“He brought breadsticks?” Dad asked, “Olive Garden breadsticks?” Shit, how did he know?

Mom grabbed one and took a bite that was somehow just as seductive as everything else she did. BF wondered how long it took to practice looking sexy while doing the most basic shit, and pondered trying to learn it. The ability to make flushing spoiled milk down the toilet titillating was added to his mental bucket list, then instantaneously forgotten. Meanwhile, GF took the politest bite of her own breadstick, and BF fell in love with her again for the millionth time.

“He didn’t even bring dip,” Dad complained. “It’s just the breadsticks.”

“Shoowa boh ee da way,” BF reasoned,.

“He’s right, they are still pretty good on their own,”’ GF nodded, and so did Mom, who delighted in the crunch. Now sitting sideways in her chair, with her legs strewn over the armrest, she leaned over and inserted the breadstick into Dad’s mouth, which chomped on it begrudgingly. That’s a win.

Dad merely scowled at BF. Just then, a timer sounded from the kitchen, preventing him from slandering the guy. He somehow made it possible to stand up passive-aggressively and made his way to the kitchen.

“Sooooo,” Mom began in his absence, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, “Have you ever killed a man?”

BF visibly gaped at her and glanced over to GF, who gave a light shrug in reply.

“Mom, is that really—“

“No, honey, let him answer.”

BF gulped and shook his head.

“Mortally wounded?”

He shook his head again.

“Severely harmed?”

He paused to consider. Not on purpose. Hesitantly, he shook his head. Mom’s lips curled downwards slightly in a frown as she scanned him over again, resting her chin on a dainty hand.

“Have you committed any sort of violence against another person?” She was really scraping the bottom of the barrel here.

“Ee dah bee bah skdoo wee bibi.”

“Oh!” GF immediately recognised what BF was referring to, “He fought a guy in the men’s room at KFC once.”

Mom leaned forward with heightened curiosity, “Oh, how terrible! What for?”

“He said Beyblades were lame, or something. Right babe?” GF looked at him. Past resentment returned to BF as he nodded with a fierce scowl. He still had a scar on his ass from when that guy shoved him into the toilet. Mom didn’t need to know that he lost the fight, he reasoned.

“So you stand up for your interests?” Mom pondered, “That’s fairly admirable.”

GF hummed in thought for a moment, “He also habitually engages in gratuitous amounts of virtual violence, recreationally.” Was she referring to the fact that he liked to do a little trolling, or the fact that he liked to play GTA V? Either way, Mom seemed pleased.

“There’s hope for him yet,” she concluded. BF idly offered her a stick of gum across the table, which she accepted without question.

As if on cue, Dad returned to the room. Behind him, the door swinging shut briefly exposed what was undeniably a blazing inferno on the other side. He was wearing a lovely green apron that said “Kiss the Cook” on it. Smoke was pouring from under the door.

He laid down a mighty platter in the centre of the table, lifting the lid to reveal a heap of assorted foods that would’ve made the rats in BF’s apartment complex cry out in ecstasy. “Hey, presto,” Dad said flatly. The closer BF looked, the less like any normal assortment of foods the selection seemed. This must be Caviar.

“Oh, shnookums, you’ve outdone yourself!” Mom delighted, clasping her hands together as Dad sat beside her. She leaned over and gave him a kiss. He seemed pleased, before realising the had gum in her mouth.

“Anything for our special guest,” Dad said with acerbic venom. In all of his limited memory, BF couldn’t recall a previous time he had food served to him maliciously, and the results were quite damaging to his confidence, if he was honest. A hefty serving of the platter was scooped onto each of their plates by Dad -- his own, of course, being the largest serving. Mom was close second. GF had a comfortable-looking amount on her plate, and BF… Dad specifically sought out an interesting-looking part of the mountain for him. GF figured it was probably, like, spicy or something, as a test. She woefully recalled BF’s unsavoury reaction to the McDonald’s Chicken Legend with Hot & Spicy Mayo, and hoped for the best.

Mom took the gum out of her mouth and stuck it to the wrapper. There was a brief grace period where the two spoke some inane, demonic gibberish, before picking up their cutlery. GF picked hers up too, and BF hesitantly followed suit.

“Three, two, one,” GF began counting down, and BF was deeply confused, “Go!”

The rate at which food started flying into the comically large mouths of her parents was unparalleled, and the unholy display of brutal gluttony made him tremble slightly. Not in fear or anything. It was excitement, or something. For sure. He was AMPED UP.

He instinctively looked over to GF for comfort, and found her casually picking at her food. She smiled at him again and nodded to his plate. With the vote of confidence, he stabbed his fork into a hunk of some meat-adjacent ‘Caviar’ and took a bite.

Oh my god, it was delicious. BF began going ham on the delectable feast laid before him like he had never before known the delight of good grub.

“You like it?” Mom asked, and BF nodded eagerly with a full mouth.

Dad grinned at him with caviar-stained teeth, “That’s a surprise, considering,”

GF froze, her knuckles whitening as her grip tightened on her cutlery hard enough to crush bones, “You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t, right?”

 _Hm? Didn’t what?_ BF slowed down his chewing to listen.

“Wha- no! Of course not!” Mom waved her off loudly and with great exaggeration. GF seemed relieved.

“No,” Dad confirmed, “We used a vegan equivalent, like you said, darling.”

 _To what? To fucking what?_ BF stopped chewing the food in his mouth.

“Dad…” GF pleaded, “To what?”

What followed was a deeply unnerving and tense silence. Mom and Dad’s eyes moved slowly from GF’s troubled expression to BF’s look of dawning horror. It felt like they were staring through his pupils all the way into the far, empty reaches of the back of his skull. Was it just him, or did the table seem longer?

“Meat,” they said.

… He swallowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will use BF as a vessel for so many of my silly little symptoms of neurodivergence you have no idea


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pico's paranoia finally finds some justification, while BF struggles to locate a bathroom.

“So what now?” Darnell asked a pacing Pico, “You wanna go get it back?”

Pico came to a halt in front of him, running his hands through his hair aggressively, “I— no, man! I can’t— you—“ He groaned, and began pacing again with his hands stuffed into his pockets. His pinky fingers caught on the edges.

Darnell frowned, “It would really help if you’d tell me what the hell was in that thing.”

Pico mentally went over the extensive list of other things he’d rather do than that, which included getting his dick cut off, his eyes gouged out, and his head impaled on a stick. He dragged his feet.

“I can’t,” Pico grumbled.

“Why not?” Darnell asked, “Is it that compromising? Is it some kinky shit?”

“No," Pico quickly responded, "What the fuck? No it’s not. It wasn’t even for me, I was just holding onto it!" Pico couldn’t reasonably justify having something like that in his home. It had like, an essay’s worth of story attached to it, which ended in the simple fact that he had great difficulty throwing things away even if he didn’t want them.

“For whom?” Darnell was so full of questions. He was like a Pandora’s Box full of ways to make Pico feel worse right now. 

“Nobody,” Pico said honestly. Darnell didn’t seem to really buy it, but could see his best bro was ramping up to committing a violence, and didn’t feel like dying in real life that night. “God, I just hope he doesn’t check under it.” _That would be an even bigger deal._

Ideally, Pico would find out that BF had discarded the shameful items before even getting to his destination, having realised Pico obviously hadn’t given him the right thing. In this deeply naïve take on events, BF would also forget that he even saw the shit in the first place. Maybe he could finally be rid of it.

“Under it?” If Darnell asked another question Pico was going to start a no-mercy route in real life. Moreso than he already kind of had.

“Forget it.”

“A’ight... But what do you wanna do now?” Darnell repeated.

“I want to play Halo Fucking 3 on the XBOX Fucking 360 with my Best Fucking Friend and Fucking Forget about it.”

“‘Kay.”

The two sat down on the couch together and booted up the sleeping console again. Things proceeded largely as normal — at least, on Darnell’s end. On the other end, Pico had a very tense and nagging feeling inside. Like some kind of innate dread, as though something extremely bad was going to happen. Granted, that was a sensation he felt far more often than he cared to admit -- like every morning, for example -- but this time it felt extremely real, in a way he couldn’t describe. Changing his phone password didn’t ease the tension. He scratched his ass.

~~~

Somehow, BF managed to swallow the last unidentifiable chunk of what he would still honestly describe as delicious food on his plate. He leaned back in satisfaction, ignoring the implications of having enjoyed the vegan equivalent of what was... heavily implied to be human flesh. The others, who had already finished their plates at least ten minutes ago, had been watching him patiently. Mom and his GF clapped politely, while Dad just seemed to be… considering him.

“Alright,” Dad said, cutting short the applause that BF relished in, “I need to go set up the next course.”

 _Oh my fucking god that was just the starter._ Is this kind of shit why people smoke? Once again, he looked over to GF for some comfort, and found her eating another breadstick. How the hell could she fit more inside her right now? BF felt like the living equivalent of the Globglogabgalab. Abruptly, he stood up and waddled out of the room. GF watched in mild concern, while Mom stared after him with nothing but deep interest, straightening herself in her chair and careening her neck to watch him go.

“Do you think I should—“ GF began. Mom quickly held up a hand to silence her.

“Let him be for a moment,” she answered.

A moment passed.

“Mom, I really think I should—“

Dad returned to the room, removing a singed oven mitt.

“Should what, precious?” Dad asked. Immediately, he noticed the shocking lack of boys in the room. “Pah! He bailed. See, I knew he wasn’t good enough for you. Took long enough to prove it.”

GF frowned at him, “He just left to go to the bathroom or something, I’m sure— just, can I go find him?”

“Nonsense, you stay right here,” Dad placed his oven mitts down on the table, “I’ll go find him.”

GF huffed. This house was a fucking nightmare sometimes. Smoke continued to creep from under the door.

~~~

While Darnell fucked around with the theatre mode replay of their last game for the ridiculous ragdoll Pico’s flying corpse was doing, Pico decided in his restlessness to check Discord, since stacking the shitty s’mores into a pyramid wasn’t helping.

There was a ping in a server he was in. Notably, a community hub for the state’s mercenaries and hired hitmen that was definitely not within Discord’s Terms of Service but was suspiciously unbanned. He started backreading.

“Oh shit.”

“What?” Darnell said. The camera was zoomed in on Master Chief’s crotch.

“They’re gonna gang up on Boyfriend.”

“Oh SHIT.”

…

Darnell glanced between Pico and the XBOX.

…

“No more Halo?” Darnell asked. Pico had already flung himself out of his seat and was pulling on a jacket.

“No more Halo.”

Right now was not the time for his 54578456th speedrun of unlocking his door. Instead, they opted to climb out the window, sidle along the outer ledge, bust into next door's apartment through _their_ window, and go through their door. Conveniently, said door was currently unlocked, as the apartment was occupied. The couple watched their neighbour and his friend sprint across their apartment with the wide eyes of television-hypnotised cattle from the couch. Darnell waved at them as they passed, tracking broken glass across the carpet. 

~~~

Boyfriend had stood out in the hallway for a brief moment, recollecting himself. Although he had plenty to stress about in that moment, his main concerns lay elsewhere. He crossed the hallway and opened the door opposite to the dining room.

Beyond him was an infinite gaping blackness. Listening carefully, he could hear what sounded like a vague dampness, or maybe something breathing. Coarse and rugged, and extremely far away yet close at the same time. BF probably stared into that doorway for far more than was good for his mental health, which was equal to about ten seconds. He shut the door. _That wasn’t a bathroom._

The only door he knew was the front door. His feet carried him through it on autopilot after gazing into the abyss turned his brain off.

_Well, this isn’t a bathroom either._

A cold breeze blew by. BF noted that it felt weirdly malicious. Like those cold winds in the movies that let people know shit’s fucked. Honestly, he thought things were going pretty well so far. He thought the weather should mind its own fucking business.

Maybe he needed some fresh air after all though — generally when his legs carried him somewhere it was for a reason, he reasoned. They better not have wanted him to go in the bushes.

He thought back to that unfathomable abyss behind the door. _Would peeing into the void be rude?_

Steadily, from within the house, came the pounding of heavy footsteps. Before he could figure out who it was, a booming voice answered for him.

“Abandoning us on dinner date night?” Dad growled, emerging from the shadows at the door in a manner that reminded BF of the many times he had been mugged in the past. BF stumbled down the porch steps in a ridiculous effort to escape his encroaching demise, ending up bouncing off them and falling on his ass. Dad just shouldered his way out the door and down the steps like someone who actually knew how to walk, generally speaking.

“I should’ve known. You’re making fun of us. You pathetic little runt.” BF was reminded how sharp Dad’s teeth were, because presently they were grinding together like a miniature chainsaw in his mouth, “So now we’re all aptly aware of what a wretched, slimy little squirrel you are, how about an ultimatum? You leave my daughter alone, and I only half-murder you for wasting our time.”

_How do you half-murder someone?_

“Wee a doo ska-bee bo?”

“Enough with the scatting bullshit! Speak English, motherfucker! Or at least a human language!” Dad snapped.

Okay, this was turning into a Personal Situation. Fortunately, BF knew just how to defuse such tension. He held up a cigarette from his pack to Dad.

He stared at it, flabbergasted.

And took it.

From out of nowhere, a small flame was summoned to light the cigarette. BF merely watched, shuddering slightly on the ground. God, he needed the bathroom.

It seemed to have worked, much to Dad’s perplexion.

“... Thanks,” Dad said.

Alright, with that out of the way, BF could finally ask him where the bathroom wa—

_Hold up._

A red dot was on Dad’s head, steadily moving down his face, past his alluringly chiselled jaw and handsomely rugged chest hair.

It disappeared juuuust before it got to BF’s eye level.

Dad suddenly gave him a weird look, as though there was something bright and red on BF’s head.

_Oh._

Out of nowhere, the loud rattling of an uzi round echoed through the neighbourhood.

“BEE!” Came that delightfully familiar voice, and BF snapped his head around to the front gate to see his boy Pico jumping over it, Darnell close behind. A figure that had squatted out of their line of fire on the house across the street was preparing to re-emerge.

“Pico!” BF exclaimed one of the few actual ‘words’ he was capable of using in scat, “Bwa-dee skidoo bo beep!”

“There’s no time for that! Get inside!” Darnell shouted. BF blinked, dumbfounded. Dad also blinked, dumbfounded.

In no time at all the two were pushed back into the house and the door was slammed shut.

“Pico, can I ask what the fuck is going on?” Dad half-demanded, taking a drag of his cigarette. Meanwhile, Pico was frantically barricading the door with the nearby shoe cupboards and the ostentatious surplus of furnishings in the hall.

“Who else is here?” Pico demanded.

As if on cue, a puzzled Mom and GF poked their heads out of the dining room.

“Oh, hi Pico,” GF waved, “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Darne-”

A bullet whizzed through the freshly-shut door and ricocheted off the floor between BF and Dad, catching the end of his cigarette and sending a flurry of ash into BF’s unwitting face. The bullet hit the ceiling near Mom’s head. She gazed at it in quiet wonder, while GF squatted down to the ground -- as was second nature to her nowadays.

“We don’t have time for howdy-do’s!” Pico interrupted, “We need to move!”

Pico and a begrudging Darnell began to rush everybody through the house. They had a vague lay of the premises; you needed to for people like these, just in case. It wasn’t suspicious, _they_ were. Nevertheless, Darnell and Pico found themselves pretty lost in the conniving architecture of a house that liked to fuck with people whenever it could. Several doors were opened to vast, yawning darknesses, unidentifiable writhing masses of flesh, infinite and gravity-defiant hallways, and hellfires in a beautiful array of styles and colours perfect for the whole family. Each of these doors was understandably shut very quickly.

Eventually, the group ended up in a room that BF easily recognised. He looked over at the stage, curtains drawn, where he first encountered his girl’s father. He stuck to GF like glue.

Aside from the wall holding the stage, the three other walls each had a door or so to them. Pico counted. Six total.

“Okay. This works. They can’t get the drop on us if we each face a different door,” Darnell explained. Pico was already barricading the doors with a trained alacrity using stage equipment.

“Okay, I repeat myself. What the shit is going on?” Dad spoke with a stern exigency that was still pretty much ignored, much to his chagrin.

Darnell slung a large rucksack off his back and flung it on the edge of the stage, unzipping it to reveal an assortment of lethal firearms, blunt-force weaponry, and other fun little knick knacks and doodads. Without delay, the group was fully armed. Darnell supplied Dad with an AK-47 and Mom with a submachine gun, as well as himself with a grenade launcher he ordered just the other day, anticipating a special occasion. As he did so, Pico handed BF one of his trusty uzis and a knuckleduster, and provided GF his back-up pistol and a baseball bat.

“What the fuck?” GF said, studying the firearm. BF presented his uzi to her, and they both looked at each other’s weapons like they were something being passed around the table by the professor in science class.

“Okay, be on your guard,” Pico warned, “There’s probably about a dozen trained killers closing in on this location.”

“Hah! They expect their little pieces of metal-slinging shit to work on demons?” Dad scoffed.

“They’re not here for you,” Pico responded flatly.

As though a stand-in for Death, the ginger bastard pointed a crooked hand at BF. BF pointed to himself as well, just to make sure. Pico nodded. 

“They’re after YOU.”

“Ee wa ee doo.” BF began to wonder if this was karma for something, although he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d done wrong, ever, in his life. Not right now, at least. He was distracted by how much he continued to need the bathroom. GF felt the appropriate amount of horror at the information on his behalf, and hugged his arm.

“Is that so?” Dad asked. Everyone in the room except Darnell immediately saw the problem with giving Dad a gun, being that he was now grinning at BF in a twisted little manner, “In that case, I know a great way to cut this whole thing short.”

“Wha— dude!” Darnell gasped, “Seriously?!” Pico quietly forgave his bestie for giving the demon an assault rifle, and hoped to god the son of a bitch was just fucking around.

“I’m just saying,” Dad shrugged.

“Don’t worry babe, I’m with you all the way,” GF assured her sweetheart quietly before turning to Dad with a mean look, “Dad, seriously, can you lay off him? He’s a good boy!”

“He was about to ditch you!” Dad argued back, “I won’t have my little girl abandoned by some contemptible little worm who probably uses his hand to shield his eyes from the sun while wearing a cap specifically designed to do that for him!”

“I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad!” GF snapped back, “And if he did do that, I’d forgive him! Like a mature person, which you honestly aren’t being right now!” Mom was looking between them as though torn on which side to take, or maybe at least wishing she had popcorn. 

Dad snarled at his daughter, before realising that he was snarling at his sweet little daughter, which made him stop in his tracks. He looked between GF and BF, before glancing over to Mom. She merely shrugged at him. He chewed on the butt of his cigarette.

“What, so we don’t have time for introductions, but we do have time for long-winded family drama?” Darnell snapped impatiently, desperate to know who the MILF was.

Pico sighed, “You’re right. Guys, this has to wait. We’ve already got a first-come-first-serve bastard stopping us from leaving out the front, and I know there’s plenty more to come.” Motherfucker was probably trying to call dibs, and it nearly worked. “We need to shut up and focus.” His skin was feeling all kinds of crawly just waiting for this shit to start. Oddly perceptive of this, BF offered Pico a stick of gum to calm his nerves, which he took with a raised brow and an uttered 'thanks?'.

“I’m Darnell, by the way. Since we’re so talkative.” Darnell said to the room in general, glaring a hole into the middle-right door from the vantage point they had collectively taken on the stage.

GF waved to him with a handful of pistol, “Nice to meet you!”

“Bweedo?” BF asked. He still needed to go to the FUCKING bathroom.

Following Darnell and Pico’s example, everyone had their gun at the ready — save for Dad, who was feeling generally dispassionate about the situation, and was frankly contemplating just walking out and doing something else. He probably would if he didn’t feel like his daughter was in danger. Pico blew a bubble with his gum and popped it. Mom quietly mourned the gum she had forgotten in the dining room.

“Yeah, now what?” GF repeated.

In the distance came the steady footsteps of a hundred copies of the same person walking at once. Out in the street, a gang of trained snipers were lining the rooves, each scope pointed at a separate window. In the backyard a large, purple, hulking muscle mass of a man had just accidentally knocked over the fence trying to climb it.

“We wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm going to take a brief break from consistently updating this, as i want to put a good amount of thought into the next couple of chapters still, as well as work on my mods and fanart (check out my 0 followers twitter or my NG if u wanna see that stuff! i have my @ in my profile). 
> 
> i might upload a brief intermission chapter that i have on the side, that would technically be taking place after the entire ordeal but be strictly relevant to the now... not sure on that one!
> 
> also fun fact the way i've been writing this and plotting it out is heavily inspired by tenacious d... shoutouts 2 my idol jack black...
> 
> hope u enjoyed... love u


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